Page 113 of Roommate's Guide to Love

“Warming up,” she says.

“For what?”

Quinn comes back to me, bending over with her hands on my thighs so she can look me right in the eye. “For a fight. She’s not just fucking with you, she’s fucking with me too. You. Me. Grace. We’re a family. The people I love. And no one fucks with the people I love and gets away with it.”

I let out a deep breath, and for the first time since I opened that envelope, I feel a little more at ease.

“I love you, you know that, right?”

She gives me a quick kiss. “I do. Now let’s go fight your mom.”

* * *

“Well, this place hasn't changed.” One hour and fifteen minutes later, the woman I haven't seen in nearly twenty years saunters into the bar. “Aren't you gonna give your mother a hug?

My eyes are trained on her, not giving her an ounce of emotion. “Sit, Bonnie.”

“My my, and here I thought I was missing out on all that Southern hospitality when I moved away from this shithole town.”

Bonnie finally sits, and it’s then she takes notice to Quinn.

"And who is this?"

She holds out her hand, but Quinn doesn’t give it back to her. “I’m the woman you really don’t want to fuck with.”

Bonnie clutches her non-existent pearls at Quinn’s comeback. “Porter. Are you going to let your girlfriend talk to me that way?”

I don’t look over to Quinn immediately, but I can tell she’s trying to get my attention through her sideways glance. Did Bonnie guess that she’s my girlfriend? Or has her visit in town included some detective work?

“She’s a grown woman. She can talk to you however she sees fit.”

“But I don’t want to be more rude than I suspect I’m going to be during this conversation.” Quinn now extends her hand. “Quinn Banks. Now what the fuck do you want?”

Bonnie looks at Quinn’s hand then back to me. “I remember you. Porter? You’re seriously dating that awful girl who released toads in the town square?”

Quinn dramatically takes a bow. “Why, Bonnie, I’m flattered. I didn’t realize I was so memorable.”

The two women have a stare down, and if my entire life wasn’t on the line right now, I’d think it was comical.

“How long have you been here?” My question breaks their stare.

She shrugs. “Long enough.”

“How did no one see you?”

“I have my ways.”

She’s bluffing, or at least exaggerating how long she’s been in town. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Rolling Hills isn’t that big. Not many people move out. Fewer move in. But if she would’ve made her face seen at any point, someone would have told me. Because she might look twenty years older, and on the outside it looks like she's lived a hard life, but she’ll always have those damn green eyes.

Plus, everyone remembers, and hates, the woman who ran out of town, leaving her husband and son. Someone would’ve told me if she was here. And since the party was just a few days ago, I have to think that’s around the time she arrived.

“So these?” I toss the envelope on the table. “You had to have someone bring them to me? Couldn’t do it yourself?”

“That was my lawyer’s doing,” she says. “But I hate that we even have to get the lawyers involved. So I thought I’d come down here and see if we could come to an agreement. Plus, I missed this town.”

Now I know that’s a lie, but Bonnie pretends as if she truly misses this bar as she stands up and starts looking around. It’s like she’s having some sort of nostalgic moment. Which she’s not. This bar was my father’s pride and joy. He renovated it from the shack it was and turned it into a town institution. He poured blood, sweat, and tears into this place.

And my mother had always resented him for that. Forget that this place kept a roof over our head and food on the table. To her it was just something that she wasn’t a part of, and her ego couldn’t handle it.

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